ned with the morning paper operators.

Around The Associated Press New England circuit it must have been a
great day for the tobacco trust, for pipes burn freely under pressure.
From apples to dogs, from men who do little and make a big fuss about
it to men who do much and keep still about it, goes the discussion
between a bite at a sandwich and a sip at a mug of alleged coffee
brought in from a lunch room. All the while the clock was moving along
to the hour that was to say whether the answer was peace or more war.

It was during an argument, surely--for that's the stock in trade in a
newspaper office--that it came. What the argument was, and who was
winning it and who losing it, is forgotten now, for from the adjoining
room of The Associated Press operator at 2.46 o'clock in the morning
came the wild exclamation--F-L-A-S-H--The Associated Press signal, very
seldom employed, indicating that something big has happened. Three
jumps to the operator's side, and there on the paper in his typewriter
appeared just three words: "Flash--Armistice signed." It was enough.
Action replaced watchful waiting.

Not long afterward the bells began to ring and the whistles to blow.
The assembling place for the celebration the mayor had ordered was
right in front of the _Sentinel_ office, the biggest and most available
congregation park in the city. By that time the first _Sentinel_ extra
had gone to press, and there was a breathing spell. From the top floor
of the _Sentinel_ home everything happening below could be seen. First
to arrive in the square was an automobile from Prospect hill, driven by
the chairman of the committee on public safety, for he had been
notified simultaneously with the mayor. Then another car came up Main
street. Then men on foot began to arrive. At first they came in ones
and twos and threes, up street and down street and around the corners,
and then in droves and swarms. Automobiles increased in number, coming
from all directions, with blaring horns and seemingly slight regard for
their own safety, but also with much regard for the safety of others.

Soon the square was alive, and there will not in our time be another
sight like it, for war of conquest is an unpopular business now. The
flashing headlights of the motor cars, the screaming horns, the yelling
men, women and children, combined to make a picture never to be erased
from memory. It was great to have seen it, even though not an
immediate